


take your genius with you (and get out of my office)

by kuroon



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Lawyers, Gen, tiiiiiny hints of iwaizumi if you squint but, you won't really notice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 22:51:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9145636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuroon/pseuds/kuroon
Summary: Another day of Kageyama being the insufferable newbie, flashing his talent everywhere, and honestly? Tooru just really misses his spa-Saturdays.





	

**Author's Note:**

> written for new year's for tumblr [here](http://dothewrite.tumblr.com/post/155244784529/take-your-genius-with-you-and-get-out-of-my), because why not? everyone have some more oikawa, you can never have too much oikawa.
> 
> unbeta'd.

Tooru doesn’t even look up before tossing a stack of files at Kageyama’s head.

At least, it should be Kageyama. With those squeaky, new leather shoes as green as his work ethic, Tooru doesn’t think that anyone else in the firm has bad enough sense to enter his office this early in the morning without making an appointment.

“You have two hours, come back with a counter for these patent restrictions.”

The boy doesn’t even offer a good morning before turning on his heel and stomps off to, Tooru assumes, their library. Youth these days. Can’t even afford a greeting for their superiors.

Tooru stretches from his position on the carpeted floor of his corner office and feels a little like crying. It’s been _way_ too long since he’s gone to his favourite spa, and his back is _killing_ him. He misses those mint candies that the front desk always hands him whenever he looks like he’s had a bad day, and that masseuse, good _go_ _d_ Tooru still has dreams at least twice every week about those biceps and that grumpy face.

Okay, he berates himself mentally and sits up straight. He really should to get back to work before his own associate beats him to it. Any more of that train of thought and he’ll have another problem to deal with very soon.

 

* * *

 

“It’s done,” and Tooru flinches even though it’s been two months, he still hasn’t gotten used to the sharpness of Kageyama’s voice sniping at him from the shadows.

He looks up, wincing a bit at the way his neck sort of screams at him, and takes the folder that’s fattened itself at least threefold in two hours. On the dot, too.

Tooru flips through it, his eyes never missing a word no matter how quickly his fingers fly across the stack, and he finally stares right at the blue-haired boy at his doorway who looks as if he’s about to get hit.

“...Nicely done,” he finally manages to grit out. It feels like sandpaper up his throat, but then Kageyama visibly inflates in front of his eyes and in the distance some angels start singing hymns.

Kageyama takes a step forward, new shoes and all, and his lips tighten even further. “Thank you very much, Oikawa-san.”

God, it makes him sound like he’s hit forty.

“Stop calling me that,” Tooru snaps, “it’s Tooru. If you want to fit in, you better start talking like everyone else.”

“But you deserve more than just ‘Tooru’,” Kageyama replies with that tiresomely earnest face, “you’re the fastest, the smartest and you’ve made history being the youngest attorney ever to make senior partner.” He tilts his head quizzically to one side and his brows furrow further. “I don’t understand why people can just call you ‘Tooru’.”

Tooru really doesn’t have anything to say to that. Far from being so humble that he doesn’t brag, but it feels almost like committing a cardinal sin if he corrupts this kid even further. Kageyama stares right into his eyes again, and Tooru feels like he’s burning underneath some seriously condensed rays of worship.

“Alright, alright,” he says hastily, “just don’t blame me when you’re not invited to lunch or something equally juvenile.”

“I bring my own lunch.”

“...Why does that not surprise me?” Tooru just clicks his tongue irritably and beckons his associate to take a seat next to him. He does his best to ignore the way Kageyama hitches his pants up before he does so (who even _wears_ such bright orange socks underneath charcoal, seriously) and dumps a cardboard box into his lap.

He presses his mahogany glasses higher up his nose.

“The client called late last night to tell us that he’s flying to Switzerland for a week to settle the rest of  his accounts-”

“-A week? But the preliminary hearing is-”

“- _Don’t interrupt me_ . You’re right, it’s next tuesday, but if we had good clients all the time then they wouldn’t need us and we’d be out of a job. _So_. He’s coming by in three hours time for a small conference, and we’re going to debrief him about our strategy before he has to catch his flight at twelve. Got it?”

Kageyama stares at him again, and this time it actually sends a chill down Tooru’s spine because there’s such a lack of fear in those bright blue eyes, and somewhere in them he thinks that there might be an abnormal amount of trust, more than any human should have for another human.

“So we need to come up with a strategy in three hours,” Kageyama says calmly.

Tooru sniffs. “ _I_ need to come up with a strategy in three hours. _You_ are going to go through every file and give me the exact information I need when I need it.”

“I won’t disappoint,” Kageyama answers. “You hired me for my genius. I have your back, Oikawa-san.”

What Tooru hates most about this kid, is that he can’t even deny it.

 

* * *

 

It’s a fairly superhuman feat to look this good after the most tense three hours he’s had all year. He’s sent Kageyama ahead to prep the conference table and to double check all the documents, and Tooru finally manages to catch a breath and pee for the first time all morning.

He practices, in the mirror, his full lips pulling into a confident yet beautiful smile that to any inexperienced victim’s eye, looks so genuine that it can cure cancer. Tooru really pulls out all the stops for his one, and even lets his eyes sparkle and crinkle a little at the edges. Perhaps this is enough for their client to overlook how utterly exsanguinated his first year associate looks, and the possible loopholes in their makeshift strategy.

He runs a hand delicately through his styled locks and frowns.

There probably aren’t any loopholes. Tooru himself is already an unstoppable force, proudly boasting a 100% success rate (can you imagine!) with his cases, but then he has Kageyama with him now. This dark horse that he plucked right out of the crop from this year’s Ivy League graduates, and he hasn’t been able to shake off that ominous feeling of being overtaken since.

Urgh. He pulls up the corners of his lips that have slid down and tries again.

This better go as smoothly as coconut butter on his beautiful ass, or Tooru _will_ slap someone before this day ends.

 

* * *

 

He doesn’t slap anyone. He doesn’t even _want_ to slap anyone, and he tips his head graciously and escorts the middle aged, relaxed-looking businessman out to the foyer. The smile doesn’t fade even when the elevator doors close, sending the far too happy businessman far away from this building. In fact, it stays on his face, widening so much that there isn’t a person who doesn’t stop to stare as he strides his way back into his office.

It doesn’t even slip when he sees Kageyama there, leaning against his expensive desk.

“That went well,” he sing-songs.

Kageyama says nothing, and keeps on staring.

Tooru finally stops smiling and frowns. That somehow kicks his associate’s brain back into existence and Kageyama blinks slowly. Still, he says nothing.

Tooru clicks his tongue again. “I know I told you to fit in, but you don’t have to keep staring like that. It’s rude to do it for longer than a few seconds.”

He watches as Kageyama, with the utmost reluctance, drags his focus back onto Tooru’s eyes.

“Sorry,” he finally mumbles.

Tooru ignores him and settles down into his chair. Ah, the sweet feeling of actually having back support. He paid good money for this chair, and it was high time he started using it.

“How does winning over your first client feel like?” He asks without looking up from his planner.

“Not bad,” Kageyama says, and then clears his throat awkwardly when Tooru snaps his head up to glare at the boy. “I mean, it felt pretty good.”

“Good,” Tooru sinks backwards and flips a perfectly dressed leg over another, “because you’re going to remember this feeling and survive on it for the next year.”

“What?”

“You said you’re a genius, right?” Tooru smirks as cruelly as possible. It’s difficult, because he’s in such a good mood after some terrible five hours, but he thinks he should make the extra effort for precisely that reason. “Then you’re going to be dealing with your own cases starting tomorrow.”

Kageyama looks like he’s stuck between having a stroke and an orgasm, and Tooru bursts out laughing.

“Oh my _God_ your face- I should have done this way earlier!”

“...Does this mean you were joking?” Kageyama’s face crumples and if Tooru had any motherly instinct he’d probably have jumped forwards and cradled him to his breast or something.

He doesn’t have any breasts, so he makes do with a folder. Kageyama catches it from midair and stares blankly at it.

“I’m giving you permission to sort out your own pro-bono cases. If you run into serious trouble you can come to me, but other than that I don’t want to see your face until you’ve at least gone two months. Understood?”

Kageyama nods. “Yes,” he says, “but your cases- I’ll still do my share, I can handle it I promise.”

Tooru throws him the most annoyed expression he can muster. It’s a feeling he’s very familiar with, and it’s proven effective when his associate wilts a little underneath that stare.

“Of course you’ll be doing your share. This is a law firm, not a volunteer service. If you can’t even handle clients along with pro-bono, you’d better get out of my office and try your hand at selling crotchet animals instead.”

He watches with slight horror as a proverbial sun rises behind Kageyama’s face and lights it up with the brightness of a few hundred moons. Tooru thinks that there’s a very high chance that this boy either has trouble understanding insults, or is an extremely dedicated masochist.

“Yes,” the boy nods furiously, and his eyes are wide with poorly restrained enthusiasm, “I understand. I’ll prove myself to you, Oikawa-san. I’ll make sure you can’t work without me in half a year’s time!”

With that, he breezes out of Tooru’s office with the grace of a tornado, leaving the older man sitting frozen in his seat.

The _nerve_ of that green little law-school graduate to say something like that to _the_ Oikawa Tooru- a massive frown settles itself on Tooru’s forehead and he grumpily taps in a series of numbers into his phone.

“Hello? It’s Tooru. Please tell me there's an opening for deep-tissue massage this Saturday afternoon.”

“Of course, sir.”

Finally, he sits back with a sigh of satisfaction. A reluctant smile that feels more like a grimace worms its way onto Tooru’s lips and he sighs again for good measure.

He’d said almost the exact same thing to his partner when he had first started, with the same determination, same excitement. Ah, the days when he believed so firmly in working hard, when someone like Kageyama could just waltz into his office and blind everyone with his sheer talent.

Oh, how he hates geniuses.

Tooru pushes his glasses back up his nose, and faces his papers once again.


End file.
